Sisters, page 12
She looked across at Grayson. “A wine connoisseur?”
“Hardly.” He placed the large linen napkin across his lap. “My wife—’er ex-wife’s—family lives in Napa Valley, California. I picked up a couple of pointers.” He paused. “I’m sorry, I never meant to start off our conversation with—”
“What? That you’ve been married before?” She shrugged. “Goodness, we both have histories. We’re not exactly teenagers.”
He really smiled then, a broad smile laced with laughter. “Yeah? Then why did I feel like a pimply-faced-fifteen-year-old while I was getting ready tonight? I don’t date much,” he admitted.
“Then we’re well matched.” Their eyes met across the table. “This is my first since—well, since the accident.”
That information wasn’t likely a surprise to him, not after seeing her come undone at the Hemingway Memorial that day.
“I’m honored to be the first.” He paused, looked at her seriously. “I really mean that.”
He fingered his butter knife. “I hate to admit this, but early after the divorce I kind of swore off ever doing any of this ever again.”
She found his admission charming. “Yeah, that’s my story too. But we’ll get through this,” she assured him.
He leaned back. A grin sprouted at the corners of his mouth. “I think the problem is that you look so pretty tonight.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, is that so?”
“Yes, true story,” he said, giving her a warm smile that left her feeling a bit untethered. “I’m really glad you agreed to spend the evening together.”
“I’m glad too.”
There was a time she could never have imagined this day. Sure, she knew a time would come when she’d be compelled to take this brave new step, or face a lifetime filled with loneliness, but she’d dreaded the aspect of the actual doing. Heavens, her Facebook status still said married.
It’s as if one day she’d sent her favorite well-worn jeans off to the cleaners only to learn the washing machine had malfunctioned and ripped them up, forcing her to shop for another pair. That, or stay in her house to avoid walking around naked.
And, you couldn’t buy just any pair. The new brand had to be sized perfectly and suited to fit your body type.
He reached across and lightly touched her arm. “You look like you just drifted a million miles away. You okay?”
She quickly nodded. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. I was just thinking about how nice it is when you find someone who fits,” she blurted, immediately embarrassed by her unfiltered admission.
Thankfully, the wine steward appeared and uncorked their wine. Grayson took the obligatory sip and nodded his approval. Their waiter then placed the salad course—pears and arugula lightly dressed with a huckleberry vinaigrette.
Karyn went for her fork, determined to change the subject. “I’m curious. Of all the places you could have landed, why Sun Valley?”
“Well, after the divorce I knew I wanted to leave everything familiar behind.” He stabbed a piece of lettuce. “Too many memories.”
“I bet you loved Alaska.”
“I did. Winters were harsh though. The long hours of darkness were as tedious as one might suspect. The landscape was magnificent though. Thankfully, this area has its own stunning beauty.”
She nodded in agreement. “It sure does. I pity people who live back East. They think they’ve seen mountains until they get a good look at the Sawtooths.” She shook her head and scooped a bite of salad. “I never take living here for granted. Despite the surrounding beauty, the entire area has such a ripe history.”
She explained how Averell Harriman, the chairman of the Union Pacific Railroad and a lifelong skier, had determined America needed a resort like the ones he’d once visited in the Swiss Alps.
“Harriman launched an extended national search for the perfect location,” she told him. “He finally purchased the nearly four-thousand-acre Brass Ranch bordering the tiny mountain town of Ketchum, Idaho and commenced construction. Seven months later, he dubbed his new resort Sun Valley and people from across America packed up their ski equipment and rushed to ride state-of-the-art chair lifts up Baldy Mountain.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I must sound like a tourist guide.”
“No, not at all.” Grayson slid his empty salad plate aside and reached for a second piece of bread. “I find all this extremely interesting. Please, go on.”
“Well, celebrities soon flocked to the area—Gary Cooper, Clark Gable and Errol Flynn. Lucille Ball, Marilyn Monroe and later, the Kennedys. In fact, Marilyn Monroe ate at this very restaurant back in 1956 when she was here filming Bus Stop. I believe there’s a framed photo on the wall inside.”
She paused as the waiter approached their table with their entrees. “Can I get either of you anything else?” he asked after he’d placed their food. He looked in Grayson’s direction. “More bread, sir?”
Grayson sheepishly glanced at the empty basket and shook his head no. Once the waiter retreated and they were alone, he scooped and sampled a bite of his lamb shanks. “I think these are the best I’ve ever tasted,” he said appreciatively. “Hands down.”
Karyn tasted her salmon. “If you like lamb, wait until you attend your first Trailing of the Sheep Festival.”
“I heard a bit about that. Sounds like a great time.”
“The festival is held every fall. My sister, Leigh Ann, chairs the committee. Lots of fun, and unbelievable food. You’ve got to go.”
Grayson beamed. “I’d really like that.”
As they talked over dinner, she learned he liked to cook, and rarely followed a recipe. She really didn’t like to cook, but when she did she rarely veered from the ingredient list. They both loved to eat. And read. He was a James Patterson fan, which made her giggle.
“What? You’re a book snob?” he teased her.
“Not necessarily. I just figured you’d gravitate more to—” She paused and considered his apparent affinity for the outdoors. “—well, more towards someone like Larry McMurtry.”
“You got me there. I loved Lonesome Dove.”
As their discussion turned to growing up in Sun Valley, she recounted a funny story about Rory Sparks, the sheriff in town and her former classmate. “The final week of our senior year in high school, we arrived on Monday morning to find a half dozen cows on the school roof. To this day, no one knows exactly how Rory got those cows up there, only that he finally confessed to the prank at our class reunion last year.”
Grayson’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding! How’d they get them down?”
“A hoist borrowed from over at the county building. Followed by several shovels.”
“Shovels?”
She nodded and grinned. “For what was left behind.”
They both laughed.
Somehow, each of them finally relaxed and their discussion now came easily. She studied his face as he spoke, taking in the way his mouth moved and enjoying how he looked at her while he was talking, like she was the single most important person in the entire restaurant.
When the dessert menu was delivered to their table, she reviewed the selections carefully and ordered crème brulee, her favorite.
She gave Grayson a rueful smile. “Dessert calories don’t count.”
He laughed. “In that event, I’ll have the same.”
The waiter offered them coffee and her date ordered them both a cappuccino.
“I’ve really had a nice time tonight, Grayson. But, I feel like I did most of the talking. In fact, I believed I rambled on a bit. I learned very little about you.”
“In that case, maybe you’d agree to a little walk around the village before I take you home?”
“That’d be wonderful,” she told him.
They ate their crème brulee while listening to Larry Harshbarger play show tunes on the piano.
“Do you like movies?” he asked.
“I love movies,” she told him. “But not many of the current releases. They seem far too violent. Nothing like the great epics from years past.”
“And your favorite?”
“I can’t say I have one favorite, but—” She paused, weighing whether he might scoff at her choice like Dean had. Men rarely understood a woman’s heart when it came to great stories. “Well, very near the top of the list is The Titanic. I loved how Rose shed the need to please everyone and became her own person—stepped into a life she wanted to live leaving the one that had been designed for her to inhabit behind.”
She waited for a mocking comment. None came.
He only smiled and said, “Yeah, that’s a really good one.”
Karyn returned his smile and scooped a final creamy bite into her mouth, savoring the slightly caramel flavor of the egg custard. “What’s yours?”
“Mine?”
He thought a minute. “You’ll laugh.”
“No I won’t,” she assured him.
He hesitated. “Superman.”
She couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows in confusion. “The guy with the cape?”
“See? There you go.”
She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry. But, that one really doesn’t fit.”
He quickly clarified. “Maybe, but every boy grows up hoping to be a hero.”
When they’d finished, Grayson paid the bill and they wandered out the door and into the star-filled night.
“Which way?” he asked.
“Let’s circle the pond and then browse the shops on the boardwalk.”
He nodded and they headed past the European-styled Sun Valley Inn, with its chalet gabled roofline, shuttered windows and overflowing flower boxes all beautifully illumined with uplighting. “When I was little, I used to think this was the same house where Snow White ran into the dwarfs.”
“Quite the imagination.” He chuckled and reached for her hand, weaving his fingers in her own. She focused on the feel of his calloused skin against her own, fighting the flash idea she was betraying her dead husband.
“Oh, yes,” she continued, pushing the intrusion from her mind. “Me and my sisters used to pretend a lot. Often, we’d play like our nighties were glamorous gowns, march up and accept our Prell shampoo bottles and take turns giving magnificent Oscar speeches.”
This time Grayson tossed his head back with laughter. “Love that. I once took the cardboard box our new Sears range came in, drew elaborate instruments with my crayons and spent hours flying the countryside.”
She tilted her head in his direction. “Do you have siblings?”
“Nope, only child.”
She immediately felt sorry for him, and told him so. “I don’t know what I’d do without my sisters. And my dad, of course.”
They walked in silence for several seconds. “What happened to your mother?” he finally asked.
They passed a stand of quaking aspen trees, the limbs thick with tiny green leaves barely visible in the dark.
“She died when I was ten. Cancer..”
“You’ve had to deal with a lot of loss.” He gently squeezed her hand.
She appreciated his comment, one she’d heard often from others in various forms. “What about you?” she asked, diverting the conversation. “Did you grow up in Alaska?”
He shook his head. “No. A little town in the middle of Washington State—Toppenish. Located on the Yakima Indian nation.”
“Yeah?”
“Not much to do there, except hunting, fishing and sports. My mom and dad owned a tackle shop. They both passed away years back. Dad a heart attack and mom cancer.”
“So, you’ve known loss as well.”
He nodded. “And extreme happiness.”
She liked that about him. He didn’t pretend life wasn’t hard, but instead of getting mired in the unfairness and hurt, he’d determined to embrace the good things and be happy.
They neared the Opera House. The lights on either side of the entry reflected brightly on the sidewalk.
She took a deep breath. “Tell me about her,” she ventured.
The question may have crossed the bounds of proper manners. Especially on a first date. But she had this overwhelming curiosity. All he had to do was look up Dean on the internet and he could find out all he wanted to know. On the other hand, she was a bit handicapped.
His voice grew thoughtful. “What do you want to know?”
She shrugged, wishing now that she’d restrained herself. Obviously, she’d made him uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I just—”
“No, that’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m an open book. Well, maybe not with everyone—but if you want to know, I’ll tell you.”
He led her to nearby bench facing the pond. They sat.
“Are you getting chilly?” he asked. Without waiting for a response, he placed his arm around her shoulder to ward off the cool night air.
“Hmm—where do I start? I guess at the beginning.” He stared out over the pond water. In the light from the posts lining the sidewalks, she could see him thinking about what he wanted to say.
“I met Robin at a Seahawks post-game party. She was gregarious, funny—one of those individuals who shine in the spotlight. Like everyone else, I was drawn to the way she made a person feel like you’d been her friend for years—even if you’d just met. Guys were constantly hitting on her.”
Karyn nodded. She knew the type. Everyone had flocked to Dean as well.
“It was nearing the end of the evening. I don’t drink a bunch, so I figured I was going to be the designated driver and chauffeur all my buddies safely home. That is, until Robin made her way over and introduced herself. We hadn’t talked ten minutes and she asked if I’d give her a ride. Apparently, her girlfriends had already headed back and left her.”
The corners of his lips drew into a slight smile. “I was terribly flattered. Any of those guys at the party would have fallen all over themselves to be alone with her, and she’d picked me to escort her safely back to her hotel.”
His thumb lightly rubbed against her shoulder.
“We married six months later. I don’t even remember who asked who. All I know is, before much time had passed, we’d set a date and she was shopping for a dress and I was trying to scrape enough funds together for a ring that she wouldn’t be embarrassed to wear.” Grayson chuckled. “I wasn’t exactly rolling in dough back then.”
Karyn sensed a shift in his demeanor. His voice held an intensity that was honest and raw and irresistible at the same time. She urged him to continue.
“Anyway, fast forward through the next few years. We moved to Seattle and she landed a job as a stockbroker and did really well. Her earnings allowed us to buy my plane and together we made the decision to move to Alaska when she was offered the opportunity to open an office in Anchorage. Alaska was the perfect place for a backcountry pilot and Robin believed there was a lot of money to be made advising people in the oil industry. She was right, of course. On both counts.”
Karyn watched a duck glide silently across the pond water and nestle in a stand of reeds. “Sounds like things were pretty good.”
He nodded. “They were. Until they weren’t.”
He paused briefly. Took a deep breath. “She stopped coming home for dinner. Traveled more. She quit calling and checking in.” She could feel him tense. “And then she fell in love with someone else.”
Karyn’s chest caved with empathy. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”
Grayson sighed. “Yeah, not a great ending. I’m generous but there are some things I never share. I left her to her oil exec, gave her the house and all our belongings. I took the plane, moved here and I’ve never looked back.” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “That’s it. Now you know my story.”
Karyn eyed him, realizing for the first time there might be a loss more painful than her own situation. She simply couldn’t imagine that kind of betrayal and how a person could not be filled with bitterness after something like that. “Grayson—” She muttered his name with a tone that was warm and caring. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Your turn. What about you?”
“Me?” She took a deep breath and considered what to say. “Well, before Dean died, I’d generally considered myself a cheerful person. I opened my eyes each morning and felt excited to be alive, know what I mean?”
He nodded.
“And then the call came—the one that shattered my world.”
The night air suddenly sent a chill across her skin. Grayson seemed to sense her need for warmth and lent her his by pulling her closer. He rubbed her arm.
“I raced to St. Moritz, wanting to see him. I knew he’d have a long haul ahead, that his racing career had ended. But I would be there for him. I’d help him adjust.” She paused. “But when the doctors finally came out to report his condition, one look in their eyes told me he was already gone.”
Now it was his turn to express his sorrow over the pain she’d endured.
She drew a much-needed breath. “In the days following the accident there were spans of time—minutes, hours and even days when blinking and breathing and speaking all took so much effort that I thought I might as well give up. I was in a dark hole of sadness and anger and confusion.” She paused, realizing this was the first time she’d admit what was to follow. “I didn’t think I was going to make it.”
“But, you did.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “My sisters never left my side. They literally held my hand and never let as much as a finger untie from our grip. My dad too.
She bit at her lip as emotion clogged her throat. “When my world was torture, they gave me hope, a breath of fresh air, and a tiny scrap of faith that the dark tornado that threatened to eat me whole might begin to change—and get better.”
“We have a lot in common,” he said. “Most especially that life can shift under your feet.”
She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Yes, life shifts. But we’re still standing.”
There was something about that moment—a kind of shared vulnerability that established an affinity between them. She was not the only one who had taken a leap of faith and decided the darkness wouldn’t win.
